


that one skysolo fic idea where luke is still a farmboy and for some reason han comes down to work with him

by requinamour



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: M/M, it's gay. have a good time, luke is a farmboy and han solo has to come like, skysolo, work on the farm or whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/requinamour/pseuds/requinamour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pretty much exactly what it says in the title. back from hiatus and still needing a title so if you got a good one please let me know</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     “Blast it!” Luke kicked at the landspeeder that lay oddly still and silent on the desert sands. “First Fixer gets me grounded, then this? Repairing this is gonna take hours without the Treadwell.” He threw off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, bleached by the sun that still beat down on the desert sands. “If those sandpeople attack now, boy, that’d just make my day.” With a sigh, he resolutely opened the slightly smoking panel and examined the mechanical innards.

     “Looks like you really got your ride busted, kid. The hell you do with it?” The shadow that obscured the panel along with the underlying derision in whoever decided to stumble across Luke only irritated him further.

     “Well, it’s none of your business to begin with, unless you’re planning on helping.” He replied without turning around. “And if you’re not heading towards Anchorhead or the Lars farm, then figure you should screw off.”

     “Wow, I sure hit a nerve.” The heavy sound of a bag hitting the sands followed by the stranger leaning in to get a better look at the landspeeder was enough to make Luke whirl around in a mixture of surprise and anger.

     The man, now craning his neck to look at the panel, was taller than Luke and obviously ill-equipped for the desert. Luke suspiciously eyed his bag, laden with supplies yet clearly missing essentials like goggles or a poncho for Tatooine’s landscape. More obviously, the blaster hanging from his hip was definitely suspicious. “Did you fly in from Mos Eisley?”

     “Yeah, and I’m heading to Lars’ homestead, so fixing this landspeeder’s in my best interests. Hand me your spanner.” Luke gripped tighter on the tool.

     “I’m not stupid or anything.”

     “You sure look the part.” He chuckled, hand still outstretched, expectant.

     “Nobody just does stuff like this.” Luke slowly put the spanner in his pocket. The stranger glared, straightening up and fixing his black vest, shaking some of the sand that had collected on it off.

     “Like I said, I’m going your direction, so gimme the spanner.”

     Luke made a grab at the blaster, diving forward, reaching, and knocking the man down. The man caught hold of one of Luke’s arms but couldn’t catch the other fast enough as Luke raised the spanner above the man’s head and threatened to bring it down.

     “Mos Eisley’s full of criminals. And hijacking this vehicle isn’t happening. So don’t try anything funny.” The serious look in his blue eyes, with only a tiny tool to defend himself, set the man off--smiling first and then breaking into full-on guffawing if that was even something people did.

     “Stop laughing! I didn’t mean funny like that.” The man only continued laughing hard enough to wheeze, pushing Luke off with some effort.

     “Honestly, kid, I’ve been walking out here. The blaster’s strictly self-preservation.”

     “Oh.” The blond sat back in embarrassed silence, finally noticing the lack of a landspeeder, the scuffed boots. “Sorry.” He dropped the spanner.

     The man scoffed. “Not even enough decency to hand it to me.”

     Luke set the comment aside. “You’re our new farmhand, aren’t you? Great, Uncle Owen’s gonna be real mad, we’re supposed to be there...” He checked his watch. “Uh oh. We should be fixing up the vaporators right about now.”

     “Shut up, I can hardly hear myself think.”

     “Not like there’s much to think about here anyways.”

     Rolling his eyes, the man set back to work on the landspeeder.


	2. Chapter 2

     Owen crossed his arms in the doorway, a hard eye trained on both of them.      

     “You’re both late.”      

     “Sorry.” Luke deadpanned, eyes downward. “Look, the landspeeder broke. I told you we should buy a new--!”

     “Luke, do you think I need to be lectured by you? If you weren’t so careless, we wouldn’t need anything new on the farm.”

     “Yes sir.”

     “And you.” The taller man didn’t flinch or stiffen when Owen set his gaze on him, merely held his nonchalant position. “You should have been here weeks ago. Hiring you felt like a mistake. You had better prove me wrong, Han Solo.”

     Han quirked an eyebrow. “You didn’t hire me,” Han gestured around the farm. “I just have to be here. And that’s what I’ll do.” The two men stared each other down.

     “I’ll just take Luke inside now.” Beru broke in, briskly taking her nephew by the arm.

* * *

 

       "Gee, Aunt Beru doesn’t seem to like you very much, Han.” Luke removed the bolt from the vaporator with a grunt.

     “What makes you say that?” Han leaned against the metal fixture, watching the blond in a half-disinterested way.

     “Well, I don’t know. She doesn’t want me hanging around you. Not like there’s anyone else here to work with.”

     He squinted into the distant desert sands, bright in the midday sun. “You’re right. Not many people around here. For such an important business, there’s not many people working here.”

     “I know, right? It’s those moisture taxes. That Jabba the Hutt can’t give anyone a break. I wonder what he even does in that dumb palace of his.” Luke wiped sweat from his forehead. “You think you can actually help out?”

     “Wired up your landspeeder yesterday, don’t see why I gotta help you on this.”

     “You’re getting paid to, aren’t you?”

     “Who says that?”

     Luke frowned. “What’s the point of getting hired just to stand around? Uncle Owen’s gonna fire you and then you’ll have to go walking all the way to Mos Eisley, probably Tosche Station since I sure won’t be giving you a ride.” Han started to speak, but Luke quickly cut in. “And don’t think fixing the landspeeder would make me cut you any slack. If Aunt Beru’s nervous around you, I’ve got a bad feeling too.”

     Han rolled his eyes. “Sure, kid. Think what you want. I could fly myself off this planet if I hadn’t left the Falcon.”

     “What, your ship?” His frown deepened. “I bet it sure is a piece of junk if you had to land it on _Tatooine_.”

     "It's a Corellian light freighter, if you even know what that looks like, and it's faster than you'd be able to fly. Bet you've never gone through hyperdrive." Han scuffed a boot across the sand. "Besides. I landed on Tatooine  _because_ of--actually, nevermind."

     Luke scooted forward. "What do you mean?"

     "Nothing, nothing! What, they teach you to be nosy down here?"

     "Do they teach common sense in Corellia?" Luke retorted. Han stared back at Luke pointedly.

     "Don't start with me." He turned, facing away from the light.

     The vaporators were finished without a word or any help from Han.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: whoa thank you for all the kudoses and the comments! i totally didn't think anyone was gonna pay attention to this, so i've just gotten back to this for a couple reasons, namely college and the fact i forgot i had this account for a while.
> 
> but yeah. i'm here to deliver some more about this.
> 
> also if anyone has a title idea i would appreciate it, i actually don't have a title for this yet.

* * *

                “I'm just about finished, so you and I had better start heading back. I wanna get a start on fixing—well, Fixer.” Luke packed the last couple tools back into his belt and popped his goggles back up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “And if you—hey, where’d he go?!”

                Han had slipped away unnoticed while Luke had griped over putting the panel on the vaporator back in place. The landspeeder was thankfully, still there. The lack of footprints, however, was more troubling. It was windy enough day for it not to be suspicious, but ever since Aunt Beru told him to keep an eye on the misfit, Luke had been wary. As if he wasn’t already.

                “Hiring” Han, if he even was hired, had been Owen’s choice—one that Aunt Beru obviously didn’t approve of. Not like he was working at all. Luke wasn’t a tattletale, that much was sure. But it was eminently obvious that Han didn’t give a damn about _anything_.

                “Except that dumb old Falcon or whatever.” Luke hoisted himself onto the landspeeder. “Well, if he likes flying so much, maybe he’d better just fly back to the farm.”

* * *

 

                Han was certainly not flying any time soon.

                At least, not without his ship. And not without his partner.

                He’d get crow’s feet at the rate he was squinting into the light. Desert planets were not Han’s favorite by a longshot, and the glare against the desert was only second to the sweltering heat.

                Hard to believe a dinky little moisture farm was even remotely near the renowned capital of crime and partying. Even harder to believe that Han Solo, _bounty hunter_ , was smack dab in the middle of said farm. But there was no way anyone backing out of this heavy of a debt.

                Then again, Han wasn’t most people.

* * *

 

                Uncle Owen didn’t ask where Han was when Luke opened the door, didn’t even remind him in the usual gruff way to knock the sand out of his shoes before he stepped inside. (Even though Luke remembered anyways. Most of the time.)

                He simply gestured for Luke to have a seat.

                “Luke, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

                The blond rolled his eyes. Usually, this kind of a talk meant more work for him, like he didn’t already do most of the work.

                “We can’t afford for you to go to the academy this year.”

                Luke nearly jumped out of his seat. “What?! You said—no, but last year you _promised_ \--!” He stammered, composed himself. “Last year you said it was the last time I had to be stuck here. What happened to that?!”

                “Well, with hiring the new hand…”

                “Oh, so _he’s_ the reason.” Luke ran one hand through his hair before slamming it on the table. “Fine. Obviously your farm’s more important to you than anything that really matters.” Luke pushed the chair away from him and turned on his heel. Owen did nothing to stop him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> racing time #wastehistimealongtimeago

                The techdome was what Luke considered his second home. Or at least, his escape from having to talk to anyone. Contrary to popular belief, even though Luke liked company, too much of it was inevitably a bad thing. _Especially_ in times like these, where his bad mood wouldn’t at all be improved by anyone barging in and talking it up with him.

                Which is exactly why Luke was so irritated when a bang at the door made him jump.

                He groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. “Go _away_.”

                “Friendly, aren’t you?” Han replied. Luke could almost hear the smugness in his voice. He stalked over to the door, opening it accusatorily.

                “And where exactly did _you_ go? As I recall, you’re supposed to be doing work around here, not running off like some space jockey.”

                Han scoffed back. “Well, sorry I’m not exactly suited for busy work. I’m here for a reason—and,” he added quickly, “It’s none of your business, so don’t think about asking.”

                “So you’re just here to waste my time, then?” Luke quirked an eyebrow.

                “No, I need something in there, and you’re wasting _my_ time. If you’re not gonna let me catch a ride, can I get one of those landspeeders? I’ve got to take a ride back out to Mos Eisley.”

                There was a pointed silence.

                “You’re not taking either of them, we’ve only got the two.” Satisfied with the finality of his answer, Luke sat back on his own landspeeder, brushing the sand off of his poncho.

                “Like you take such good care of yours.” Han retorted. “I’m the one who fixed up your dumb ride and you won’t even lend it to me.”

                Luke rolled his eyes, something that was becoming almost an instinct whenever Han spoke. “I race this thing all the time, I could have taken care of it myself. It’s just old. Plus our droid’s busted.”

                “So you ride, huh?” Han stopped leaning on the doorway in favor of surveying the machine. “I do too.”

                “With that ship of yours? I bet you can’t even fly the T-16.”

                “Lend me a speeder and I’ll show you.” Han flashed a grin. “Then we’ll both get to run away for a while. How about it?” Luke’s unimpressed look didn’t faze him. “Look, if you beat me to Mos Eisley, then I’ll pay for an upgrade on your engine. That’s what you wanted those converters for, right?”

                Luke jumped behind the wheel. “Like a farmhand who’s working all the way out here could pay for anything.” Now it was his turn to grin cheekily. “But a race sounds fun!”

                Han started the engine on Owen’s speeder. “Let’s get started then.”


	5. Chapter 5

            Jumping on a landspeeder was practically second nature to Luke—so easy, he could probably do it in his sleep. The fact that he let Han take Lars’ speeder didn’t bother him too much. After all, his uncle was always breaking his own speeder, never keen on taking much care of it if he could relegate it to the droid or to Luke.

            The hot blast of air that always accompanied the opening of the technodome was familiar, but threw Han off—Han, who apparently had never worked a day in the sun, who for _some_ ungodly reason was here on the farm. Luke tried to shake off the frustration that Han was responsible for yet another year stuck on the forsaken desert planet Tatooine. Despite the anger that throbbed in his head, Luke sailed out easily, whooping with excitement as he picked up speed. He turned around to see Han, still briefly blinded by the sunlight, struggling to accelerate in the older model.

            Childishly, Luke stuck out his tongue, hitting the brakes and swerving around, the wind whipping up a spray of sand behind him. “What’s wrong, Han? Kinda seems like you _are_ wasting my time!” Han looked furiously up, tiny in the distance. Luke laughed at the receding figure, gunning the engine with practiced ease. Aunt Beru used to worry terribly about Luke, especially when he took the T-16 out to the barren fields that all blended into themselves if you weren’t paying attention. But Luke had some preternatural pull that guided him. It made his aim laser-focused and always took him back home with little trouble, no matter how far he had gone out.

            For that reason, Luke got nervous. Did Han actually _know_ the way to Mos Eisley? Sure, Luke wasn’t supposed to go there often anyways, but he knew the route by heart—he had a sudden sinking feeling that when he ran into Han in the desert, it was a stroke of luck. A kid with a busted speeder when you’ve been walking aimlessly in the heat is better than nothing at all. He took a peek behind, intending to turn around if he wasn’t in his sights.

            But Han had figured out the controls now and was gaining on Luke. Not very quickly, since Luke still had the head start, but at the very least he was there. Luke let out a little sigh of relief, but only because if he had lost sight of Lars’ speeder, that might have been trouble.

            “Better watch out, I’m a hell of a pilot.” Han barked out from behind, suddenly competitive.

            “And you’re so modest, too!” Luke swerved around a rock formation with ease, which Han had to turn hard to avoid. “Are you one hell of a worker, too?” That anger raised its head again. “Cause if not, what’s the point?”

            “What are you talking about?” Wordlessly, Luke leaned into racing again. Han had to admit, he was pretty good—there probably wasn’t much to do around here, so he spent his time getting good at maneuvering with the clunky transport.

            Mos Eisley was now fast approaching on the horizon, but Han had wrestled his way to keeping pace with Luke. He seemed now unwilling to engage in banter (which was irritating, considering that it was Luke who started it) and his bright blue eyes were focused on the goal.

            “Not so smart-mouthed now that I’m neck and neck with you, huh?” Han yelled over the wind. Luke’s eyes darted over to Han—his gaze was burning with some unspoken and simmering rage. “Hey, what gives?” Han chuckled, a little startled by the intensity. Luke still didn’t answer and retrained his eyes on Mos Eisley.

            He was going to beat Han, that was for sure. The anger was swimming in his vision, the thought that he had practically mastered everything that was worth doing on this planet and _still_ he was going to be here another year.

            “Slow down, kid!” Han shouted. Luke pretended not to hear, counting in his head the seconds before he would need to slow down.

            Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Han already started to slow down and that was going to be his flaw, he was going to lose for certain. Five. Four. Three. Steady hand now. Two. Take a breath.

            One.

            Luke hit the brakes, shifting a little in his seat to combat the inertia. Han, about a minute later, pulled up beside him.

            “Geez, you really don’t let up.” Han dismounted the speeder as Luke walked over, his palm open.

            “Alright Han, pay up.” It seemed like his temper had died down a little, but Han could still see it, underneath the grin that was breaking across Luke’s face. “I’m gonna get myself that upgrade while you take care of whatever you’re doing here.”

            Han relented. “Yeah, I did agree to that, didn’t I?” He dug into his pocket, brushing against his lucky dice, and found his credits. “Alright, don’t get crazy.” He started to walk off.

            Luke pocketed the credits and then held his hand out again. “Keys to the speeder, if you don’t mind. Can’t have you running off for real, you know.”

            Han, who hated feeling like a prisoner in any case, balked. “I’m not going to.” He _was_ going to, but this sort of put a dent in his plans.

            “What, so I trust the guy who barely did a lick of work all day?” Luke pushed his palm forward insistently. “Keys.”

            Han decided against making a scene. Besides, if what he was going to do would work, he could just as easily find his way to the Falcon or take out a loan for enough credits to get another landspeeder. He dropped the keys into Luke’s hand.

            “Meet you back here in an hour.” Luke said curtly and disappeared into one of the shops. Han shoved his hands in his pockets. The sooner he could get away from this barren planet and this hot-tempered kid, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey what's up i wanted to write a little more of this but i lost a lot of my notes i wrote for this so it might be a little slow running, but i missed writing skysolo. it's fun!


	6. Chapter 6

            Humidity and a rank smell of sweat flooded over Han as he entered into one of Jabba’s favorite haunts, a cantina that would be full of his entourage. He steadied his hand on his blaster, which was ever at his side, and tried not to breathe in too hard.

            Cantinas like this were always full of criminal sorts, so Han blended in just fine among them—although he was much better looking than most of the scum that wandered through. Already it was getting hard to breathe in there, which was a good indicator that Jabba was nearby. Han squeezed his way through the crowd, paid quietly for a drink, and sidled up to Jabba’s side.

            “Jabba! So funny running into you here.” He took a swig of hull stripper, then tried not to grimace. Not like Han hadn’t had his fair share of alcohol, but cheap drinks here seemed to run up into your nose and down your throat at the same time. “Listen, about our contract--!”

            [Your debt, you mean?] Jabba gurgled in Huttese. [Everyone in this cantina knows you’re a fast-talker, Solo, you’re not pulling anything on me today or ever.] Laughter filled the room with an acrid stench.

            Han grimaced, openly this time. “There’s not much work around here, Jabba, I’m not gonna make enough credits in a million years, even if I did work on more than one farm. These moisture farmers are a bunch of idiots! And you’ve got a stranglehold on the whole damn spices scene here, so I can’t even put my skills to use. Can’t you just let me off easy on this one?” Jabba eyed him maliciously. “Or at least give ol’ Chewie a break, I can live without the Falcon.” Carefully, Han began to reach for the key ring on Jabba’s belt.

            For a moment, it seemed like the Hutt actually considered his offer, then he turned his attentions back to the Twi’lek he had chained to him. [No. You’ll just pull off another one of those escapes you tried a year ago. No partner in crime. No ship. You stay here until you make enough money to pay me back or you die on this planet. You can do both!] The Twi’lek girl shuddered as Jabba darted his tongue out to lick his lips, his eyes now trained on her.

            Fingers closed around the smooth metal of the key ring. Han yanked hard—but misjudged how slick the metal had become by way of being hooked near Jabba’s body. All he managed to do was yank Jabba closer to himself. The smell was nigh unbearable and the anger that was now rippling through Jabba’s heavy form only seemed to amplify it.

            “Heh, whoops.”

            [Solo!]

            “I’ll be seeing you around, Jabba. Pleasure doing business.” He had finally managed to tug hard enough to get the keys in his hand. Han was plenty fast and dodged the blaster shot one of Jabba’s cronies fired off at him.

            Fresh (but dry) air was a welcome relief as Han burst through the doors of the cantina. He was certain that the entourage was probably going to take a while to organize enough and squeeze out of the dingy building, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

            It wasn’t terribly uncommon to see people running through the crowd on any given day in Mos Eisley, especially pursued by stormtroopers or irate business owners. Han didn’t cut a particular figure to almost anyone as he fled down the street. Not until he crashed into someone carrying a load of mechanical parts.

            “Hey, would ya watch it?” Luke had managed to hold on to most of the parts, but he spun around to face whatever criminal had run into him. “Han? What are you running around for?”

            “Uh, no reason. Just getting some exercise.” Han bent down to pick up the pieces that Luke dropped just as one of Jabba’s other bounty hunters appeared in the crowd.

            “Oh, why don’t you get some calisthenics in too, while you’re at it?” He took the rest of the pieces back in his arms and shifted his weight to his other leg. “I can see right through that. You got in some kind of trouble, didn’t you?”

            Han smiled helplessly. “Just a little bit.” Luke bit his lip, a worried expression rising like a tide. For some reason, Han just couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.

            “Okay, come with me. We’re going somewhere safe.” He grabbed Han’s hand, snapping him out of—whatever that was—and began to weave his way through the crowd.

            “So, you come here often?” Han joked lightly as they were jostled by other Mos Eisley goers.

            “Every now and then. Sometimes they don’t land at Anchorhead so I come around here.”

            “Who’s they?”

            “Just some friends of mine. They go to the Academy.”

            “What, the Imperial one?”

            “Is there any other?” Luke surveyed his surroundings. “They’re pilots. I would be there too if not for--!” Han shoved the two of them into an alleyway. “Ouch! Haven’t you got any manners?”

            “Would you shut your big mouth? I caught sight of one of those bounty hunters. We should lay low in here for a sec.” Han pulled Luke closer to himself. “Stop peeking out there, we’ll move in a sec.”

            Luke relented, leaning back against the wall next to Han. “Fine, fine.” He took a moment to catch his breath, closing his eyes and enjoying the shade. “Bounty hunters, huh. That’s more than a little bit of trouble.” It didn’t seem to trouble Luke all that much, despite his words. “What’d you do, steal from Jabba the Hutt?” He laughed at his own joke.

            Han laughed along nervously. “No way, kid. Just got a handsome face that’s known all over.”

            Luke stole a glance up at Han, still smiling. It was true, Han didn’t look like the kind of guy who belonged on a dusty planet like Tatooine. He looked like the kind of roguish guy you’d imagine behind the wheel of a starbound ship—the way Biggs Darklighter looked right at home at the academy.

            Han looked down just as Luke closed his eyes again, pondering. Luke didn’t look so bad himself when he wasn’t pissed to high heaven, whatever he was so mad about. “I think we’re probably in the clear. Where are we going anyways?”

            “Just a bar. Stormtroopers don’t like it so much there and most criminals don’t like how high the prices are.” Luke opened an eye. “I guess you’re a criminal too, but technically they all are for buying me drinks.” He peeked out again. “We’re not too far. Let’s get a move on.”


End file.
